- Hey! This is Don from last night. Wanna grab a drink sometime next week?
Lizzy would swear his name was Dan. She could hear herself calling him Dan all night long. So you’re from Devon, Dan? What did you think about the show, Dan? Your sweater’s cute, Dan. He was all cute. Very cute, and witty, too. Don, Dan, Dean, whatever. His name quickly stopped bothering her, as she revived the memory of the electrifying, unlooked-for date.
There in Casablanca, he sat next to her with a pair of poorly made French 75s, and he humbly waited for his date, who never arrived. The comedian had them for a quarrelsome couple. Don drinking Lizzy’s cocktail, she playing hard to get. ‘Who would order a French 75 here in Casablanca anyway!?’ said the comedian, and the audience laughed. ‘A movie lover!’ Don responded with a slight delay, shyly to Lizzy’s ear.
- Hey you, I’m free on Tuesday night. How about The Gibson bar?
Don couldn’t understand why. What is The Gibson bar? Where is it? He looked it up on maps. On Old Street? Perhaps she works in a startup there. He realised that he actually didn’t know what she did. A startup maybe then, okay. He agreed on the place, though it was a bit too far from his apartment in Paddington.
He waited for three long days till he finally got to see her. He sat by a table outside and ordered a drink called ‘Grand Orient Express’, which he had never had before, neither he knew what to imagine under that. The beverage arrived quickly, and so did Lizzy.
She passed Don unnoticed and sat by a cozy table inside. ‘Two martinis for me, please!’ she shouted at the barmaid. ‘Two of them just for you?!’ she answered back with a giggly gesture. Then, she delivered the drinks and lit up a candle for her. Lizzy downed the first martini thirstily, and the second one out of boredom for Don being delayed. Or, wait, for Don sitting outside. She arrogantly sent him a quick text, asking where he was.
- I’m in The Gibson. A table outside. You’ll see me when you come.
She could see his silhouette through the large, blurred window. As he was the only man at the terrace, she hesitantly approached him. Was she that drunk the other night that she now couldn’t recognise him? ‘Don?’ she dropped by, putting another glass of martini next to his packet of Marlboros. He looked startled.
Well, there was a major misunderstanding, ladies and gentlemen. Dan never called, and Don messed up. He wrote down the wrong number at a dinner party the other night. And Dean? Lizzy didn’t know any Dean.